


No Kissing

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7799368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do I call you?”<br/>“Colin,” the man, Colin, says after a moment of contemplation. He looks vaguely surprised by the question, as if it isn't common practice to be asked his name. Then again, Sebastian supposes it probably isn't. He hasn't really perfected prostitute etiquette.<br/>“That your real name?”<br/>Colin's lips quirk up at the corners.<br/>“What do you think?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Kissing

**Author's Note:**

> Another blast from the past. This is almost four years old, and I originally posted it under another account because I was a blushy babby embarrassed by my bad porn. But I've now developed as a person and learned to OWN my bad porn.
> 
> My characterisation for Mormor has changed quite a bit since then, and I've actually had to remove some of the more sentimental bits because, euck. But hey. #Throwback. 'Cause why not.

The London streets are oddly quiet, the cold bite of December having driven most people in off of them. Sebastian Moran is not one of them. He moves like a shadow, sliding along walls and down alleys, making his way deeper into one of the rougher areas of the city. An ex-military man, to most he looks like the war has been hard to him. His eyes are framed with the dark smudges of sleepless nights, they no longer hold the spark of life they used to. Rather, they possess a haunted look that makes it difficult for most people to maintain eye contact with him. There's a scent of whiskey that seems to cling to him permanently, like a light, invisible cloak. The secret, however, is that this isn't the war's effect on him. Not at all. These are the withdrawal symptoms. Sebastian doesn't know what to do with himself now. He misses the thrill, the danger, the power.

Which is why he's here now, isn't it? Seeking that thrill, that danger, that power. There's a wad of money he's won from the cards that evening tucked in his pocket, and he has every intention of using it to pick up a prostitute. It's not that Sebastian can't get women or men himself. He can, and has often. He's attractive, even if a little rough around the edges, with an angular face and body toned from his days in the army. But he's sick of following someone home drunk and crawling out of bed to sneak away while it's still dark. He's bored of normal sex. He wants someone he can hurt, someone who will fight back. Someone who knows there's no strings from the offset.

He can see some of them already. Women with starved, drug abused bodies in clothes too thin to protect them from the weather. He starts to doubt if this was such a great idea. Most of these women look sickly, desperate. Some of them smirk at him as he passes, and Sebastian feels his stomach clench in repulsion. There are a few men around too, but they barely glance toward him. Probably assume he's straight from his appearance. Sebastian slips down an alley, unsure if he wants to go through with this or not. And that's when he sees him.

The man- Or is he a teen? Sebastian's not sure. He looks young, but there's an air of maturity about him. He's leaning against one of the walls, one leg bent up under him and head leant back, exposing a long strip of pale neck. Sebastian has never wanted to bite and mark something as much in his life. He licks his lips, stepping closer, and the man's head rolls to face him. Dark brown eyes quickly flick over Sebastian's body and a slow, easy smirk finds it's way across the smaller man's face. He's in a pair of too-tight black jeans with ankle high boots, and a sleeveless white button up with the top three buttons undone. Sebastian can see the goosebumps rising along the surface of his skin, but the man doesn't even seem to notice the cold.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He's chewing gum, jaw moving in lazy circles. His voice is a seductive drawl, a hint of Irish accent flavouring the words. It sends a hot rush of heat down to between Sebastian's legs.

“Yeah.” The gruffness of his own voice surprises him, and he clears his throat. The other man's smile only widens. His dark hair is dishevelled and it contrasts against the paleness of his skin. Sebastian wants to touch it, wants to fist his hands in it and pull.

“I charge a hundred for a fuck,” the man says bluntly, casually observing his nails. He doesn't enjoy selling himself, but it's quick and relatively easy money. Sure he has other means. He's quite good at pick pocketing and he shoplifts on occasion, but he's slowly clawing his way into the ladder of organised crime and sometimes he needs a little extra. He doesn't even have to ask what Sebastian's after, he can read it from his stance. He wants something rough and with no strings attached, and that's exactly what the man is offering.

Only he isn't what Sebastian was expecting. He's small, with dark, intelligent eyes and a vulnerability he hides behind his casually disinterested expression. But Sebastian can see it, has spent months in the desert watching men attempt to hide that same vulnerability behind hard masks. He has an overwhelming desire to stroke his hand through the tousled mess of hair, smooth it down and kiss his forehead. He realizes the man is staring, waiting for an answer. He clears his throat again.

“Er, yeah. Right. So where do we-?”

Smooth, Moran. Smooth.

A wicked smile curves the corner of the man's lips.

“You choose the place, love.” He raises his eyebrows, as if this were common knowledge. Sebastian nods. Right. He's in control of this situation. He has to be. He turns, walking swiftly. After a while he glances back over his shoulder, only to see the same flash of white teeth.

“Don't worry, I'm still here.”

The man is vaguely amused by Sebastian. He's obviously not used to this, uncertain of the protocol. He could have fun with this one, if he wanted. _No. Just get on with the job, get it over with._ Same deal, different person. He trails after him as he leads the way to a rather rough looking apartment block. The man laughs. Sebastian tilts his head curiously.

“You haven't taken me to your home?”

“Why not?” Sebastian shrugs one shoulder, not bothered. His flat is just a box he passes the time he's not at the bar in. There's few personal possession, and the only thing of real value is his old pistol, stored beneath the floorboards.

“You're very trusting,” the man purrs, tailing him up the stairs.

“Nothin' really you could steal.” Sebastian shrugs again. “Better than some cheap hotel.”

“Charming.” The man takes in the flat when Sebastian opens the door, eyes darting around, quickly mapping escape routes. You never know when the client will turn rough.

Sebastian stands awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to do. Does he just start into it, or should he offer him a drink? He's beginning to regret doing this, of letting his impulses get the better of him. Same as always. But the man is still smooth and composed, gliding easily into the flat as if it were familiar territory and quickly locating the bedroom. It's Sebastian's turn to follow after him, licking his lips as he observes the way his ass looks in those jeans.

The man unbuttons his shirt, shrugging out of it and hanging it neatly over the chair by Sebastian's bedside. Sebastian's eyes are drawn to the pale expanse of chest, sliding down to stomach and curving hipbones, dark jeans clinging to them.

“Two things. I don't mind if you're a bit rough, but try not to bruise me up too much, yeah? I still have a job to do. No one likes damaged goods.”

It gives Sebastian an odd twist in his stomach to hear the man refer to himself in such a way. As if he were an object. But he just nods in response.

“And the second?”

“No kissing.” He turns his dark eyes to observe Sebastian's, and Sebastian has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. Reluctantly, he makes a sound of agreement. “I like to keep things as impersonal as possible.”

Sebastian lingers across from the man, shuffling slightly.

“What do I call you?”

“Colin,” the man, Colin, says after a moment of contemplation. He looks vaguely surprised by the question, as if it isn't common practice to be asked his name. Then again, Sebastian supposes it probably isn't. He hasn't really perfected prostitute etiquette.

“That your real name?”

Colin's lips quirk up at the corners.

“What do you think?”

Sebastian shrugs. It probably isn't, but it's not really his place to ask. He moves forward, intent on kissing the smirk off of Colin's face, only to remember that, yeah, that's not allowed. He pauses, uncertain, but he doesn't have to wait for long. Colin moves forward, hands slipping easily beneath Sebastian's shirt. He shivers slightly as palms drag over his stomach, a slight hint of nails on his ribcage.

“Arms up,” Colin breathes, pushing the material of his shirt up over a tanned expanse of skin. Sebastian obliges, allowing him to remove the article of clothing. “Much better.”

His eyes drag over Sebastian's torso and he emits a low hum of appreciation. Hands on Sebastian's hips pull him closer, and then Colin's mouth is on him, sucking at the base of his neck, laying kisses along his shoulder before his teeth latch down on his collarbone. Sebastian lets out a low groan, one hand curling in Colin's hair as he grinds his teeth around the bone, intent on leaving a bruise. He wants to mark this man. Wants to claim him. It's an unusual feeling, one he's never had with a client before. Usually he just wants to strangle them until they stop breathing, moving, existing.

Colin moves back slightly to admire his handiwork. There's a burgundy bruise, framed in grey and still darkening. Excellent. That will take at least a week to fade. He moves forward again, tongue gliding over it, then into the pool of Sebastian's collarbone. The other man moans, moving Colin backwards. The backs of his knees hit the bed and his legs bend, forcing him to sit. Sebastian moves to crawl over him, but hands pressed against his stomach stop him.

“Easy, tiger.” Colin smirks, looking up at him from under dark lashes and, fuck, maybe it's the remains of whiskey in his system, but Sebastian thinks he's never seen anyone, anything, quite so beautiful.

Colin presses a kiss beneath Sebastian's navel, fingers working open the button of his jeans. He ducks his head, catching the zip between his teeth and dragging it down. He's oddly eager to please, wanting to show off to this man, this stranger. Sebastian groans at the sight, hand finding its way back to the dark waves of Colin's hair.

“So, what's your name then, gorgeous?” he drawls, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband of Sebastian's boxers and pulling them down along with his jeans, tapping his thigh as a silent command for him to step out of them.

“Sebastian.” He feels half breathless from the sight of Colin between his legs alone.

“Is that your real name?” Colin grins wickedly, eyes glinting slightly in the dim, dusty light of the room, teasing.

“What do you think?” Sebastian chuckles in response, playing along with the banter. It suddenly strikes him that this is the first time he's felt genuinely amused in a long time. The first time he's felt genuinely anything, really, except for the constant misery and boredom of life.

His train of thoughts are broken as Colin curls a hand around his erection, jerking him slow and eliciting a gasp from Sebastian.

Colin had spat his gum out on the way over, behind Sebastian's back, so his mouth is free to take in his cock. He licks experimentally at the head, Sebastian's fingers tightening in his hair. He can feel the strands tugging at his scalp, sharp pinpricks of pain that cause his eyes to flutter closed. He whimpers quietly, wrapping his lips around the head and sucking lightly. His own dick is hard and heavy between his legs, and that in itself is unusual. Usually he has to work into his arousal, mostly from physical stimulus. Yet here he is, already hard and aching simply from Sebastian's hand tangled in his hair, cock sliding past his lips and those low, deep noises the other man keeps emitting.

He slides his mouth down deeper, dragging his tongue along the underside as he retracts. He picks up a steady pace, bobbing his head up and down, cheeks occasionally hollowing as he sucks. He can't take the whole length into his mouth, and so he keeps a hand around the base, jerking along with the movements of his head. He keeps glancing up at Sebastian, watching the way the man's jaw goes slack as he moans or the flickering of his eyelids.

 _Mmm, yes, this one is definitely attractive._ It makes a difference from his usual clients. Fat, balding, middle aged business men looking for a bit of stress relief without the hassle, commitment or consequence of an affair. But Sebastian's different. All toned muscles and bad attitude. Ex-military, that much is obvious to Colin. Mild depression. Borderline alcoholic. Gambling addiction. All these things he can read on Sebastian clearly, and it gives him a sense of power, knowing he knows the other man to such an extent, and yet he is nothing more than a sinful mouth and a fake name.

Colin moves back, flicking the head of Sebastian's cock with his tongue one final time. He shuffles back on the bed, leaning to undo the laces on his boots. Then Sebastian is suddenly kneeling between his legs, taking his wrists and moving his hands away.

“Let me,” he murmurs, voice slightly hoarse with arousal. He presses a surprisingly soft kiss to the inside of Colin's wrist before moving his attention to his boots. Swift fingers make short work of the laces, having had practice with his army boots. He drags them off, setting them beside the bed. Colin's already popping his button, and Sebastian helps him shimmy out of the jeans. It takes a little more effort than Sebastian's, since they're basically painted on, but he thinks it's definitely worth it when he has the man spread bare before him.

“No underwear? Dirty.”

“I'm a whore, what do you expect?” Colin's words are light, but they still stir heat in Sebastian's belly. He kisses his way up the inside of milky thighs, nibbling every now and then. He licks a strip from the base of Colin's erection to the tip, but hands in his hair tug him up further before he can take it properly into his mouth.

“Ah, ah,” Colin scolds. “I'm meant to be making you feel good.”

“Wanna make you feel good, too,” Sebastian murmurs, words muffled by the skin of the smaller man's neck, where his mouth is now sucking softly. Colin hums in appreciation, tilting his head momentarily to allow Sebastian to continue.

“This isn't about me.”

“Funny, I thought it took two people to have sex.”

Colin frowns, tugging Sebastian up to look at him.

“This is just a job for me, right? You pay me, I make you feel good, that's it. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am.” He tilts his head, observing how Sebastian's brow furrows into a frown. “Don't look so sullen, love. It just means less effort on your part. Now, you got any lube around here?”

Sebastian leans over him, reaching for the bedside table. Colin takes this opportunity to kiss along his shoulder. He doesn't like the way things are going. Doesn't like getting too involved. Always the danger one of his clients might start to get attached. He spreads his legs further, bending them at the knee and leaning back on his elbows. When Sebastian returns to his previous position, Colin raises a challenging eyebrow.

“Well go on then, slick me up.”

There's a slight authoritative bite to his voice that makes Sebastian groan. He pours a generous amount of lube onto his palm, rolling his fingers in it before trailing them down between Colin's legs. The smaller man squirms slightly at the cool, slick feeling. Sebastian circles his hole once, teasingly, before slipping the first finger in. He's tighter than Sebastian was expecting, and his stomach tightens slightly in anticipation. He can already imagine the feel of being buried inside him, feeling him tight and hot around him. Colin whimpers at the intrusion. He doesn't like this bit. Most of his clients don't prepare him well enough, and the painful burn always outweighs any pleasure. But then Sebastian slides his finger out, in, and he curves it, sending a wave of pleasure crashing through Colin. Oh, _this is interesting_.

Colin watches Sebastian, lips parted, panting out little breaths as he withdraws his finger entirely. He whines at the loss, but it swiftly turns into a whimper as two fingers are slid into him. Sebastian looks up, meeting his eyes as he probes inside him, searching for his prostate. When his fingers brush it, Colin collapses back into the pillows with a shuddering moan. Sebastian smirks, thrusting his fingers hard and fast against it.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice entirely seductive. It's low and smooth, full of desire. Colin rolls his hips down against his fingers in response, shamelessly attempting to fuck himself on the digits. Sebastian scissors his fingers before adding another, picking up a rhythm as he moves them in and out. He wants to make sure Colin's ready for him. As much as he's tempted to just bend him over now and fuck him stupid, it's going to be better for both of them if he's properly slicked and stretched. It's not long before Colin is writhing beneath him, rolling his hips down and impaling himself on Sebastian's fingers, emitting soft mewling sounds and quiet moans.

“Fuck, Sebastian.” And God, does Sebastian love the sound of his name rolling off that tongue. The way the Irish drawl catches and drags the first 'a'. Colin repeats the name in his head. _Sebastian_. He doesn't usually use his clients names, doesn't always know them, but he likes the feel of it in his mouth. “I'm ready, just fuck me already.”

He obliges, removing his fingers and nipping at the skin beneath Colin's bellybutton. The man twitches slightly, sighing quietly. Sebastian kisses further up, moving between the lines of his ribs, almost visible beneath his skin, to his chest; smooth and hairless. He pauses at the area where shoulder meets neck, nipping lightly.

“You can bite harder, you know. I'm not going to break.” Colin doesn't know why he's encouraging him. It's favourable not to have bruises in obvious areas, particularly around the neck. His clients are all about fantasy, and they dislike reminders of what he really is. But he likes being bitten. Not usually by the people paying him, but if he's having sex for pleasure. He can pretend, for one night, that he's here by choice and Sebastian's just a lover that's taken him to his bed. Just for one night. What's the harm in that? He can't even remember the last time he had a proper shag.

Before he can get too bogged down in thought, Sebastian's teeth are sinking harder into the curve between shoulder and neck. He moans, slightly caught by surprise, feeling his neglected cock throb in response. His fingers curl in Sebastian's hair, holding him in place as he arches his neck, offering more of himself. His free hand reaches down to stroke himself, trying to take the edge off. Sebastian catches the motion, capturing his wrist and moving his hand away without ceasing the sucking motion of his mouth over the fresh bite mark.

“Let me,” Sebastian says. He takes the man's dick in his own hand, jerking him in long, slow strokes. He licks over the indent of his teeth, blowing on the saliva to create a cool sensation. Colin shivers in response.

“Thought you were going to fuck me?”

“Patience.”

“I'm an impatient man.”

Sebastian huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. He wants to work his way up to the mouth, but that's not allowed, so he restrains the urge. Instead, he presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw as he lifts the foil packet from the bedside table. He tears it with his teeth, sliding the condom on as Colin watches with heavily lidded eyes. After slicking himself up, Sebastian shuffles closer, rubbing his dick along crack of Colin's ass.

“Don't be a tease,” Colin whines. Sebastian smirks in reply, catching Colin's legs behind the bend of his knees and tugging them to rest over his hips. He moves his hips in a gentle rocking motion, cock brushing against Colin's entrance without ever penetrating. The man whines, wriggling about as if he might be able to impale himself if he struggles hard enough. “Sebastian!”

It's an unspoken command, and Sebastian automatically obeys, pressing in slowly. His jaw slackens, savouring the tight heat of it. He lets out a shaky exhale once he's all the way in, gripping Colin's thighs and giving him time to adjust. Colin watches him through heavily lidded eyes, tongue darting out to glide along his bottom lip in a manner that makes Sebastian want to suck on it. Damn. This whole 'no kissing' business is a lot more difficult that he ever imagined it would be. Colin reaches down to touch his wrist.

“You can move now.”

Sebastian pulls out slow, because he wants to make this last. Wants to cherish the hot, tight squeeze of him. That's his intention as he starts fucking him in slow, deep thrusts, but they don't last. The feel of Colin around his cock along with his built up lust and the lingering remains of alcohol in his system lead to Sebastian's self control collapsing pretty quickly.

“Yes, yes, fuck, Sebastian, harder.”

Sebastian obliges, shifting his position and practically fucking Colin into the mattress. He's making the most delicious sounds, all low moans and high whimpers, writhing beneath Sebastian and pushing back to meet every thrust. It's perfect, and Sebastian wants to remember it forever, is already devastated to know that in a week he'll probably have forgotten the little hitch in Colin's breath when he pushes in particularly deep. Trust the hottest fuck he's had in months to be a god damn hooker. Typical.

“You're so fucking hot,” he mumbles, slightly drunk on whiskey but completely fucked over on Colin. The noises he's making, the sight of him wriggling bare and sweaty on the bed. Paralytic from his presence.

“Yeah? I'm I a dirty little slut?”

“No, just, fuck. Beautiful.”

Colin tenses slightly and Sebastian immediately stops moving, although it takes a lot of effort. Oh shit. No. This is bad. People aren't suppose to tell him he's beautiful, as if it means something. They tell him he's dirty, good for nothing, a tramp. Sebastian is watching him closely, concerned, and that just makes it worse. The smaller man stares up at him for a moment, face serious, eyes wide and dark. Just play along. Maybe you're not the only one that wants to pretend tonight.

“What's wrong? Am I hurting you?”

After several long seconds he shakes his head, rolling his hips down in an effort to get Sebastian to move again. Sebastian's sighs, leaning down to kiss the underside of his chin, his neck, his shoulder and imagines that it's his mouth pressing back against his. One hand moves between them to grip Colin's cock, thumb gliding across the tip before he's jerking it in fast, rough strokes that match his rhythm. This seems to go down a treat as Colin lets out a long moan, torn between thrusting up into Sebastian's hand or down onto his dick.

Sebastian distracts himself with mouthing at Colin's neck. At least if his mouth is busy he won't come out with any other embarrassing nonsense. He can feel himself getting close, and he increases the pace of his jerks, twisting his wrist each time he reaches the top. Colin pants, head falling back against the pillow and neck stretched out like a canvas for Sebastian to mark and claim. His clients don't usually care for his pleasure, taking what they want from him then leaving him be. He's never had this much attention paid to him and he's quickly heading for the edge.

“So close,” Sebastian says, words muffled by Colin's skin. “You feel so good. Tight and hot and _perfect._ ”

He gasps, pressing his forehead to Colin's shoulder. Colin whines, feeling his orgasm approaching with increasing speed. He comes first, moaning lewdly and bucking into Sebastian's hand, spilling come onto his stomach. Several thrusts later Sebastian follows. He bites down on Colin's shoulder when he comes, hard enough to bruise and to block the cry of 'Colin' that rises up his throat.

Sleepy and satisfied, he remains sprawled over Colin for a few moments, forehead pressed to his shoulder and feeling his chest fall and rise with each panting breath. Eventually he pulls out, slow and with a wince. Tying the condom he drops it over the side of the bed. Colin pulls a face of distaste.

“That's disgusting.”

“I'll get it later,” Sebastian says. He bends to lick Colin clean of come before dropping onto his stomach and nuzzling fondly against Colin's hip. Without thinking, the dark haired man strokes his hair, before realising that no, he has to go now, that's the exchange over. He shifts towards the edge of the bed and Sebastian whines, curling an arm around his stomach. “Where ya goin'?”

“That's my service over, I'm afraid, sweetheart.”

“Can't you stay for a bit?” Sebastian works very hard on not letting his disappointment show, but it's clear in his voice.

“Can't. Work to be done.” Colin shoots him an apologetic smile, shrugging before reaching for his jeans. The idea of anyone else fucking him makes Sebastian's stomach curl into a hard knot. Wow. Where did that possessiveness come from? Usually he's the one running for the door.

Maybe it's different being on the other side.

“A hundred, yeah?”

“Mmmhm.” Colin's got almost one leg of his jeans on. Sebastian quickly counts through his money before leaning over and touching his shoulder. Colin glances back at him.

“I've just over four hundred. If I give you it all will you stay until the morning?”

Colin's expression shifts into one of slight bafflement, brow furrowing and mouth turning down into a vague frown. He turns to face Sebastian more fully, ignoring the money held in front of him and laying a hand on Sebastian's wrist, pushing it down.

“That's not how this works,” he says slowly, clearly, as if trying to explain something to an infant.

“Wouldn't it be better to humour me and make your money this way, than to be out in the cold waiting for someone to pick you up?”

“That's what I do,” Colin says, although he can't deny the money is tempting. He doesn't even make that much on the usual night, let alone one as cold as this. He looks at Sebastian, who's staring at him with wide eyes, silently pleading. God, it's pathetic how lonely his trauma stricken post-war life has left him, that this is what he's been reduced to. With a sigh. Colin kicks off his jeans again.

“Fine. One night, but the rules still apply.”

Sebastian grins, setting the money on the bedside table and pulling Colin close to him.

“No kissing, just cuddling,” he promises, nuzzling into Colin's neck. Colin's still a bit tense, but the warmth of Sebastian pressed against his back and the lazy patterns Sebastian's fingers are stroking on his stomach soon have him relaxing and melting back against the other man. Sebastian pulls the duvet up over them, nuzzling into the back of Colin's neck. He pops out of bed quickly to switch off the lights before returning. Maybe it's because he knows there's no commitment, that it's easy for him to curl up with Colin. That there will be no calls or dates or expected follow up. He just gets to enjoy a warm body in his bed without any consequence.

“Night, Colin.”

“Good night, Sebastian.” Colin feels the other man relax against his back, one leg slipped through his own and arm firmly around is waist, fingers splayed possessively over his stomach. He shouldn't be doing this. This isn't part of what he does, but he justifies it by telling himself he's just pretending. Still pretending that for one night he's actually here by choice. In spite of his better judgement and his struggles with insomnia, he feels his eyes grow heavy. To the sound of Sebastian's even breathing, Colin falls asleep.

*

He wakes at dawn, immediately tensing at the feel of someone pressed against him. For a brief second Jim Moriarty forgets that he's Colin the prostitute, and his heart jumps into his throat. He swallows, steadying his breathing as he recalls the previous night. Not exactly his best idea in a while. Slowly and carefully, he removes Sebastian's arm from around his waist, shimmying out of the blanket and shivering as the cold of the flat hits his skin. He hadn't noticed last night, what with certain... distractions, but it's really bloody cold in this shit hole.

He quickly dresses himself, looking down at Sebastian's sleeping form. The man's pulled the other pillow to his chest, mistaking it for Jim in his sleeping state and nuzzling his face into it. It might be cute if it weren't so pathetic. He moves to slip out, but first checks one of the side drawers, looking for some kind of clue about Sebastian, seeing if he can find his last name. He comes across his dog tags in the first drawer and, ah, Moran. Colonel Moran for that matter. Nice. Very nice. Jim can tell from the callouses on his hands (Jesus, _those_ hands) that he worked with guns. Probably a sniper. Might be useful to him sometime.

He pockets the money and moves through the flat to the kitchen. A quick forage later and he finds little food, but nicks an apple and munches on it as he looks around. The flat is mostly bare, offering no more clues about Sebastian's personality. Shame. Oh well. Jim finds a pad of paper and a pen on the counter and quickly scribbles down the address, ripping the top sheet off and folding it, sliding it into his pocket for future reference.

*

When Sebastian wakes up a few hours later, he shifts forward to kiss the back of Colin's neck, only to find his bed is empty and that he's left alone once again.

 


End file.
